


To Fall Apart

by Sasswolf_Hale



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:46:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9446057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sasswolf_Hale/pseuds/Sasswolf_Hale
Summary: A glimpse in Bucky's mind during the final fight in Civil War





	

Stark.

He didn’t know it; not at first. But he could see a resemblance to a face he knew. He tried not to think about it, and the man said he was here to help. The movie reference was lost on him, but Steve gave him the all clear and he lowered the gun. This man was a friendly. He could handle that, and honestly, they would need all the help they could gather if the other winters were awake. His senses were high alert, listening for any sound that might indicate the three of them weren’t alone. He both trusted and doubted his abilities. This particular foe had been better than him before he’d remembered who he was. Now? There was no telling how much his slowly resurfaced memories had changed his ability. He focused on the present time, not the faint screams and sounds of gunfire he would hear in all kinds places. Finding the chamber brought a new wave of emotion.

Confusion.

Why go through all the trouble of finding the book, finding him, and going through an elaborate scheme to gain access to the most powerful Hydra weapon ever created if you were just going to destroy it? And then it hit just why it had been such an issue. Why this man had gone through hoop after hoop to bring them here. It had never been about the Avengers, not really. They were collateral damage to this man.

This had always been about Stark.

And before he could fully register it, Zemo had the video playing. Long erased from any public access, audio still fuzzy, but never changing nonetheless. Of any kill order Bucky had carried out in the more than seventy years since he’d been brainwashed, this one had and would always haunt him the most. He didn’t know then, what it was he was doing. He hadn’t known who it was he was killing. Howard couldn’t have known, not with the mask, and with the much longer, typically unkept hair. But watching it as himself - as Bucky, and not the Winter Soldier they had forced him to become - he felt his heart break. He knew this man. He understood that now. That was the reason he could feel his hands shake just minutely on his rifle, which suddenly felt wrong in his hands. He could remember things now that no Hydra agent would have allowed before. The celebration after Steve had saved the 107th, where he’d first officially met the man. The battle planning at the table, surrounded by Peggy, the other Commandos, a few select soldiers who acted as bodyguards. Howard was always near the opposite end, always diagonal from Bucky’s position on Steve’s left. The weapons discussions where Howard would speak to him about his rifle, the special adjustments made specifically for Bucky that made it easier to switch between close and far range ability with the flip of a scope. The care Howard took making sure that each Commando was with a weapon that they were the most comfortable with. Howard may have been a difficult man to befriend and a terrible flirt, but he cared about the men who he made weapons for. He wanted them to come home safe, and that was always the goal. As Bucky watched, he felt so much all at once. 

Grief for the loss he had never been given a chance to feel. It ripped at his heart, but he kept his composure. He couldn’t risk losing his resolve. He needed to keep calm, especially now that he knew he was standing beside Howard’s son. The man he had unknowingly made an orphan. He couldn’t bring his gaze to Anthony now. He had come to help and he was finding out his greatest tragedy was because of Bucky. 

Anger at not being strong enough to fight those words. He should have been able to. He should have recognized Howard. He may have aged, but it was clear now that it was Howard. And Bucky was so angry at Hydra. Angry at himself. Angry that this man was capitalizing on the murder he had committed while being controlled. He wanted to kill the man, if only he felt he could finish it. 

Guilt because of his weakness. That he had not only caused the death of his friend, but that he had been denied access to the funeral. So many questions ran through his head. One more than any of the others.

What have I done? 

His eyes slowly lifted, landing on Anthony. This man should have been a friend to him, the way he was to Steve. He should never be an enemy in this, in any conflict. And yet he was because Bucky had ruined it almost twenty years prior without the slightest bit of awareness. He wanted to apologize, to try and explain. He knew it was futile, deep down, but he wanted to. Grief over a loved one wasn’t something that just went away, so he saw the fight coming. 

He had fought like this once; angry and grief ripping him open. When the fall didn’t kill him, they said the others had died. That Steve had been killed in the train exploding. That there was no one left who cared about him, or even beloved he was okay to be around. The anger had been palpable; the fact that he hasn’t been allowed to go to Steve’s funeral, or to say goodbye. He had fought blindly as they learned his skills in hand to hand were well beyond what they could counter; especially with his cybernetic arm. That was when they had started the electroshock, trying to tamper the memories away and going through the words that would break him in time. 

He was lost in all of the emotions even as they struggled, unaware of his movements, of anything that was happening. And then suddenly there was a searing pain and he stumbled back, jolted back to reality from the lost thoughts of a broken man and found his arm was gone, metal blown away and there were alarms in his head. Signals he had learned a long time ago were various warnings about damage to the metal arm. He fell back, dizzy and world spinning. And then Steve was fighting for him. He wanted to say Steve’s name, to tell him no, that this wasn’t worth it, but the noise was so loud, he could barely think over the damage noises in his brain. He was being helped up and carried by Steve then, and all Bucky could do was hang his head, crying silently. He had broken so much already. There was so much he needed to make up for, and yet this was much worse than anything he’d done prior. 

He was the reason Steve’s life had turn to shambles in a mere few days. 

And James Buchanen Barnes could not hold back the tears at that realization.


End file.
